Christmas in Rome
by Margarita-I'm-not-a-drink
Summary: In her mid-thirties and content just living with her lazy dog, decade long hotelier and Rome-dweller, Elena Gilbert receives a surprising letter from an old friend and may just have to step up her game, shave her legs and do her hair this Christmas around. All human.
1. Chapter 1

It was still dark out as she rose from the bed, her back was sore and her head throbbed from the lack of sleep. Winter was supposed to make you feel lazy, want to mingle much longer under the soft and warm comforters, curl up with a nice book or watching the episodes of your favorite tv show, that you had been falling behind on. Snuggle with a loved one and make love as well. Winter was about family, friends, being content and being together. Twenty years of Rome and she was in the same little house with paintings scattered about. The same cinnamon-scented candles she seldom lit, because they'd been a gift. Piles and piles of journals and photographs. All alone.

…

She slipped on a new pair of purple wool socks and made her way to the tiny bedroom next to hers, a makeshift office, although she usually worked in every clear surface (or not) in this house. There was the small wooden bed in the corner, with a bunch of pillows on top and animal fur.

She called out a name, her voice still hoarse from just awaking g and soon enough her lazy German Shepard appeared, nails making clinking noises against the wood floors. She scratched behind her ears, her companion, her sweet Zelie.

…

She entered the building, clutching her leather satchel to her chest. Inside were the neatly wrapped packages of toys meant for her young nephews, a card, pictures and gifts for her brother and his wife as well. She hadn't seen them in a couple of years, except for the ocasional Skyping and pictures sent, so she made the extra effort to be as present as she could while far away. So far it had worked and seven-year-old Leon and Yuri Gilbert were her number one fans.

"_Buongiorno_, I need this sent to the US as quickly as possible." She offered the tall young man a gentle smile and he nodded, handing her the forms to fill out. Soon enough all was paid for and she was out of there, heading straight for the hostel she administrated.

Villa Concordia was a bright orange building with dark blue window shutters. The flower boxes on the windows were now covered in snow, but the lively, three-story building still held it's charm. Although it did belong to Enzo, a long time friend of hers, Elena was undoubtedly the heart and soul of the place. While Enzo retreated to his villa in the warmth of the south, she received people from all over the globe and showed them around this town she loved wholeheartedly.

As she entered the building, Silvia, the newly graduated hotelier was already behind the reception counter, keeping track of the keys and online reservations—the past few months Elena quickly learned that if anything happened, Silvia would always be there. Fiamma, the chubby gray-haired woman responsible for the cleaning was setting up the breakfast table in the lounge and sent her a loud greeting and smiles. Fiamma had the prettiest, largest black eyes... A coffee-addict like Elena risked being captured into the warmth of them and loosing all sense of self-preservation. Fiamma could've made a lovely shrink. Or priest, if it weren't for her constant flirting and love for tighter skirts.

"_Buongiorno Fiamma, va bene_? [Good morning, Fiamma, how are you?]"

"_Beníssimo, signora!_ [Very, very well, madame!]" And she would add an extra sway to her hips just as Piero, the driver, would step in juggling several pieces of luggage—most probably belonging to the new guests who had reserved room 3.

Elena entered her office, off the living room with a mug of coffee she stole from the kitchen and a piece of bread. As she sorted out the letters in her pile, bills, invitations, more bills, a letter from Enzo that womanizing good-for-nothing bastard and a surprising letter from an old friend. With a few minutes to spare before heading out for the first tour to the St. Peter's square of the day, she decided to open it.

…

She sat on her sofa with Zelie at her feet. The television was on in the background, playing Zorba the Greek in black in white. Elena hated how the widow had been killed and how much of a coward Basil whas for not defending her. Her father had been a fan of this film, but besides the very enticing dance and the hauntingly beautiful eyes of Irene Papas... she was at a loss for it.

It's not like she was in much condition to think about it anyways, he simply said he'd be arriving soon. Elena couldn't even recall the last time she had looked into those pretty blue eyes—no, more like she chose not to. Years ago, he had chosen Lydia over her and now... Men were so frustrating. He would be staying a few days, leaving probably right after Christmas. Who knows, maybe it wouldn't be that bad, maybe it would be good for her to open her house to someone, rather than simply her hostel. Elena could sure do with more talkative company than her dog. Fiamma didn't even need to point it out.


	2. Chapter 2

Loud music soared from the speakers in her living room. Everything from opera to Madonna and the Happy song by Pharrell. She hated that she loved that song. Elena had become addicted by it once her nephews sent her the "Despicable Me" soundtrack by mail, saying she would love it and that once they met they could sing and dance together. She wouldn't let her little rascals down.

She had wrapped a silk scarf around her head, holding in it her hair that she'd recently cut shoulder length. Elena never thought that after a lifetime of wearing her hair very, very long, there would come a time where she wouldn't miss it at all. She felt more grown up with her hair short, but at the same time, more sassy. With it short she could afford to show off her natural curls more often and she did think the messy hair style was sexier on her than anything else she'd tried.

The house was half-clean by now. Not that her house was messy and dirty, by far, but everyone, when comes the time for visitors to arrive, wants to clean, organize and fix their home until it's absolutely spotless and perfect. The tricky part was deciding where her guest would sleep. Zelie's bed was off limits, it had acumulated probably seven or six years of dog smell and fur, no matter how many times she tried to get rid of it. The alternative would be to get the new mattress she had fallen in love with weeks ago, but had been to lazy to go back to the store and close the deal. And now it was on it's way.

Elena spent the entirety of Thursday afternoon doing laundry, folding and putting everything away in their respective cupboards and wardrobes. Friday she completely modified the kitchen and a can of new blood red paint, rolls and brushes was all she had needed. The room was much more lively now... She had gotten sick of the gray. She also finally got around setting up her Christmas decorations that had been stored in boxes under her bed. Now above the fireplace, bright white lights iluminated the room and the fresh flowers she had been able to buy, made it all the more homey.

She hadn't been able to find a natural tree, so just as the previous year, the plastic one was set up with all of her traditional wooden decorations, very few crystal balls as she wasn't too keen on those and tiny portraits with photos of herself as a child, Jeremy and her nephews. The bright wood-carved star she had bought in one of her travels to Germany stood proudly at the top, the led lights accentuated the nuances of the nativity scene and traditional German houses carved on it. Last but not least, the ribbons and lights. Christmas had finally arrived at her home...

…

Enzo called her Saturday morning, apparently news of Damon's arrival in Rome travelled fast. He let her know that he'd be in town on the 27th to take over the hostel why she took some days more off.

"There's no woman more special to me than you, Gilbert. If he goes anywhere near hurting you, he'll have an enemy in me."

"No need for your macho Italian territorialism, Enzo, I'll be fine. Are you sure you don't want to join us for Christmas?"

"No, no... You know I'm a mood killer, plus, Giovanna here will be very upset if I abandon her in this mansion all alone."

"Of course. Take care, Enzo."

"You too love, and keep me posted. Finish up a bottle for me—Lord knows you need to."

"Oh hush! _Ciao_!"

"_Ciao_."

…

Elena kissed Silvia's cheeks as goodbye and waved with the gift package she had received from her new friend under her arm. Silvia had given her precise instructions to open and use the article of clothing Christmas night and guaranteed that she would look stunning. The pair of earrings Elena had given her, with a card seemed so meaningless now. But she was thankful and Silvia was happy and all that mattered was that. Time to go home. Time for a break from this hostel.

Her home wasn't too far, but still it was nice to see people still on the streets, in the restaurants, the Christmas lights coloring the houses and buildings. Twelve years ago she had no idea who she was and no prospects of what she wanted to be. She had finished her medical residency at Whitmore Hospital, but medicine was no longer what she wanted in life. Losing the man she didn't even know she had loved all those years ago, had made Elena open her eyes to what really mattered in life. She had worked hard, saved money and one day, on a whim, she bought a one way ticket to Italy and never again returned.

…

Elena parked her red Fiat 500 in front of her house and was surprised to see someone sitting on the top of her stone steps. With this cold it was quite possible someone's butt was freezing... she got out and locked up and almost didn't recognize the bearded man with a soft smile and paper in his hands. The blue eyes were a giver and indeed it was Damon Salvatore right in front of her.

"I got an earlier flight at Heathrow." He explained and Elena wrapped her arms around his neck, pecking his cheeks three times. And then she remembered.

"Why the hell didn't you ring the doorbell or knock?! My friend Fiamma is inside and could have let you in!" Damon simply shrugged and she unlocked the door. Fiamma was indeed inside and in charge of Elena's kitchen, the woman had insisted on preparing them a nice dinner, reasoning that Elena had too much on her plate already with homecleaning and the hostel.

"I hadn't been there for too long, figured you wouldn't take long either."

"What if I were inside?" Damon smirked.

"You're here aren't you?" Elena shook her head and huffed. "_Fiamma! Fiamma_, this is my good friend Damon Salvatore, Damon, this is Fiamma Ziviani." The two shook hands and Fiamma also kissed him with a huge smile.

"_Molto piacere_, it's very nice to see Elena accompanied by such a handsome man. Her bed is all ready for you!" That moment, Elena's eyes went impossibly wide and her cheeks had turned as red as Santa's cap. Damon simply laughed and touched Elena's arm reassuringly.

Elena showed Damon around the house and escorted him to the office that had been transformed into a cosy guest room. Poor Zelie would be downgraded to the carpet next to Elena's bed.

"Nice friend you have there, 'Lena." He commented with a teasing grin. Elena slapped his arm and rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her.

"Fiamma's a tad unconventional, but she's my oldest and best friend here... almost like a mother. It's just that her English isn't all that good and adding that up with being Italian..." Damon chuckled.

"I see. Thanks for having me under such short notice—I really just needed to get away."

"Lydia problems?" He shook his head. "Your brother told me about your divorce a while ago, I'm sorry it had to end so badly."

"Somehow when our baby died our relationship died with him. And trying for another just made us become more and more strained, rather than bringing us together. In the end we were both being unfaithful and decided we didn't want the same thing anymore." He was fidgety and kept messing with the clothes in his suitcase, not making eye contact with her. "We're okay now, though."

"How long has it been?"

"About four years, give or take. Lydia ended up marrying her gynecologist and adopting twins. And I moved to gray ol' London." He began loading the wardrobe she had emptied for him and she pretended not to notice the strain in his voice and the slight shaking of his hands.

"Yeah, I noticed from the address on your letter. Still not an adept of emails and skype are we?" He smiled and those blue eyes were breathtakingly beautiful.

"Not with you! We've only ever written to each other in the past. I kind of missed it." Elena offered him a grin, but somehow it looked more like a grimace. She straightened the silk duvet on his bed, avoiding contact herself and sighed.

"You know, I'd better go see if Fiamma needs anything. You settle down, take a nice warm bath and make yourself at home."

Elena made her way to the wooden door and was halfway out when he asked her:

"You'll never fully forgive me will you?"

"There's nothing to forgive Damon..." She answered.

"Liar..." She said nothing and closed the door behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

Damon wasn't the type who stalled or became nervous towards a woman, in fact he took pride in being suave and a ladies man. The years spent in London, four to be exact, consisted of a basic routine, in the morning he would leave for work, do a good job and work extra hours and later he would hit a pub or one of those fancy dance type restaurants, have some drinks and leur a pretty young woman to her apartment... and then leave after she'd fall asleep. No strings attached had become his motto in life.

He didn't know how much of his tragic love life Elena knew, but she was a smart woman and had always been able to decipher him better than others. Maybe deep down he'd always been afraid that she would discover him to be a shallow human being, uninteresting, unfulfilled, unhappy... She made him insecure like that.

Damon stayed in silence, pensive, white bathroom tiles had never been so entertaining. He knew she was downstairs, with her pretty new hairstyle, waiting for him to arrive so they could eat. Waiting to scrutinize him and judge him with those big brown eyes. What could she be thinking downstairs? That he looked awful, that he'd put on some weight? That he was hopeless and unredeemable? How could she have once loved him?

Forty years old and this was his life now. He drank to forget and slept to ignore. He hid away in women's bathrooms because he was a coward and how could he, so broken face such a beautiful, amazing woman? Because despite the years, she amazingly still was.

…

Fiamma hugged Elena tightly, kissing her hair like a mother would. Elena sighed and held Fiamma even tighter. This would be a long few weeks and she needed that extra incentive.

"I've never seen a man take that long in a bath unless..." Fiamma paused, turning her attention from the stairs to the woman in front of her, this time more serious. Elena looked lovely in a simple knee length black skirt and cotton white t-shirt tucked inside. "You look so beautiful with your curls, Elena. You look like a lioness, stronger, much stronger. You are the strongest woman I've ever met. I hope you have a happy Christmas and I hope you and _Damiano_ can fix those scars you made on each other."

"_Arrivederci, Fiamma_... I love you." Elena whispered.

Fiamma caressed Elena's hand gently, kissed it and left the house, closing the door. Piero was sitting in his old car outside waiting for her.

…

Elena whiped the stray tear that had rolled down her cheek. She hoped those scars could be fixed too. One thing was to be strong, another thing was to be brave.

…

Damon came down the stairs slowly, wearing a casual pair of jeans and a dark sweater. His hair was still a bit wet, but the fireplace was lit and warming up the entire downstairs area. Elena sat on the round wooden dining table with a glass of wine, staring blankly into the fire.

"Did I take too long?" She smiled slightly, acknowledging his presence and motioned for him to take a seat.

"I thought you had drowned in my tub and was sitting here, playing out in my head how I would explain to the police and the coroners how a man your size could possibly die in such a small tub." They both laughed and she poured him a glass of wine.

"Well you sure know how to break the ice." She smiled and looked down at her empty plate.

"Let me go get the food, I had to re-heat."

"Need help?"

"No, no. I'm fine, really... it's not much."

…

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. He told her about the new project he was working on of a corporate building in London—apparently he was a successful architect. She told him of her travels to southern Italy, France, Germany and the one time she lost her passport and had to live two months in a small town full of charm in beautiful beaches in Africa.

"I don't have a whole lot of money, but I have a great quality of life. I bought those old place here, tore a few walls down... a huge mess. But it's home you know? I love my hostel and I love that I get to meet so many different people. At the same time though, it's—well, meeting so many people in transit is much better than having to make actual friend ties. It's hard for me to trust people, you know that."

"Yes. Do you still enjoy those old black and white movies?"

"Yeah, a few days ago I was watching Zorba the Greek, my dad loved it."

"I've never seen it."

"Really?" He nodded. Elena smiled, got up from her chair and walked towards the wall-to-wall shelf in her living area, reaching for a DVD case amidst so many others. "Well, we're watching it right now and later, if I'm really drunk, I can teach you how to dance the sirtaki."

"Is that what the little dance is called?" She nodded with a smile.

"Leave the dishes there, I'll load the dishwasher later." Damon wouldn't have that and carried everything into the kitchen. Elena fed Zelie her dog food and set up the movie.

"There, all clean." Elena shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"You're such an _exemplary_ guest!" He chuckled and made himself comfortable on the sofa, while she took a seat on her favorite polka-dotted armchair, Zelie as always, asleep at her feet.

…

The film ended a while ago, but Elena couldn't help but watch how Damon froze, staring at the television. She had seen him cry when the widow died, and then the crazy French lady.

"I never really understood this movie." She said.

"Well, Elena, it's not really a drama, not really a comedy, not really a tragedy. You know what I think this is?" She shook her head. "I think it's a philosophy of life. Basil is always passive, uptight, afraid of living. Zorba is the polar opposite. He's impulsive, fun loving, brave... But you already know that." Elena listened to him attentively. "This film, that character Zorba, he's trying to teach us how to live life, how we should never be afraid and how we should deal with our losses. He suffered so much with the loss of his son, I felt his pain. He said he had to dance or he'd explode in grief. I understood." Damon stared back at her, he was dead serious and wasn't afraid to show her his own pain. "I understood because I've been needing to dance all my life."

"I think we both do then."

…

**I would like to thank LL, M (guest) and all others who reviewed, followed and favorited this story so far. You are making this writing experience so much more fun, heartfelt and worthwile for me and I appreciate that. Now please, keep that wonderful feedback coming!**

**-Margarita**


	4. Chapter 4

She sat in her bed with the leather-bound journal she had been gifted by Enzo on her birthday, her favorite ink pen in her hand, waiting for some sort of inspiration or at least a word to come to her, so she could write. Writing was how she escaped loneliness, all those characters in her head—her friends and foes. But she couldn't tonight and instead became destracted by the shadow of feet she saw passing her door back and forth. Was the yellow light of the hall really deceiving her?

And then the shadows stopped and she could identify the black contours of feet against the contrasting light.

They both couldn't sleep.

Elena got up from her bed as slowly and quietly as she could manage. She put on her silk Japanese robe, in her favorite shade of blue around herself and walked towards the door. She could feel that heavy energy from the other side of the wood. That heavy energy they always held when together. She gently placed the palms of both hands against the door, to help support her body, so that she could lean in with her ear and try to decipher what he was doing. She heard a heavy intake of breath and quickly opened the door wide. She lost her balance for a moment and he was startled.

They looked at each other and his expression was of such pain and regret that her eyes filled with tears she would never allow for herself to shed and wrapped him in a tight, warm and desperate embrace. In seconds her wrapped his arms around her and relaxed. He let her rub his back and caress the back of his neck, much like a caring mother would, calming her child after a nightmare. He pulled her in tighter, by the waist and they held each other for a long time, until they were out of breath.

Damon looked into her eyes, but didn't find pity, ressentment or any of those things. He saw in her so much heartache and so much compassion, such raw emotions that he couldn't name. She let him look into his soul and that, for sure, he would never forget.

…

They lay on the wooden floor of the hall, side by side. It was tight but they were okay, staring up at the ceiling. Everything silent except for their heavy breathing. Zelie had nested herself between both their legs and fallen asleep.

"How old was your son?" She asked in a whisper... uncertain of how Damon would react.

"He was two years old. Can you believe?" Elena didn't say a thing for a while until she turned to look at him, into his eyes.

"Don't worry Damon, your boy is all right, he's an angel in heaven."

"Do you really believe in that?" Elena shrugged.

"I believe that there are things so far from our comprehension. I don't know much about God, but it's a beautiful thing to have faith in something or someone out there, who we can count on. I believe in a great big mother a wonderful mother—who even when things go sour, continues to have place for us in her heart. Every single one of us. After I lost my mother and then Isobel, I turned to her for help and every single day, I wake up and I know I'm here because of her and because I feel that I am loved by at least her."

"Well I believe in you Elena Gilbert and if you say my son's in heaven..." He wasn't teasing her, that she knew. This was Damon's unconventional Damon way of saying thank you. "But 'Lena, you're good with words. A child who loses her parents is an orphan, but what do you call a parent who loses their child?"

"There's no word for it, not that I ever heard. You know what word I'd call a parent like that?" He shook his head. "I'd call them the strongest human beings of all. There's nothing more painful than losing one's child. Nothing." He listened carefully to every single word she spoke, his heart breaking just a little bit more, as her voice broke and she let out a single sob. "I lost my mothers, my fathers, friends. Nothing is more painful and lethal to a parent than the loss of their child." She had tears streaming down her face.

…

Later, when they had each returned to their respective beds, he couldn't help but think, how on Earth did she know? How could she know how much it hurt to a parent? Had Elena had a baby too?

…

Morning came and Elena was busy in the kitchen, preparing chocolate chip pancakes, coffee and home baked bread. She had her favorite Frida Kahlo apron on and this morning she had decided to put her curls up in a messy bun. She had found a single red rose at the market and pinned it to her hair. Nothing would keep her from being happy today—not even the heartfelt discussion they had had the previous night, not even all the pain they kept inside. Today was the 23rd and today she would show him around town and they would do last minute Christmas shopping. They would have dinner at her favorite _trattoria_, listen to music and maybe even dance.

Someone once said that happiness was a choice. We have a choice for everything in life, including the choice of being happy or sad. Elena would not be sad, she had promised not to be.

…

He awoke with the door of his bedroom opening forcefully and hitting the wall. Elena held a large silver tray and a grin on her face.

"_Buongiorno_, princess, time for breakfast!" He couldn't help but smile at her silliness and made space for her to set next to him on the bed. Damon tried to reach with his hands for a piece of bread but she was quick to slap it away. "You have to promise me that we wont be sad anymore that until after Christmas we will only be happy and do happy things. You're very depressed and that's depressing me, so it needs to stop or I'll have to kick your pseudo-Italian butt out."

He laughed wholeheartedly and kissed the skin of her right shoulder next to him, sealing the promise. This woman never ceased to surprise him.

"Let's eat then, my noble prince." She smiled brightly and took a sip of her coffee.

"I better be."

**Thank you all once again for the amazing feedback. This chapter was quite dramatic, but I thought they just needed to open up a little bit, to allow some space for the excitement of what happens the next chapter. Please continue to read, review, favorite and follow! You guys are giving me the best Christmas gift already!**

**-Margarita**


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